The Maze Of Your Heart
by NympheSama
Summary: My attempt to merge the books and films together; because they're both SO GOOD and I wanted to see how they could work TOGETHER. So, theres a lot of stuff straight from the book - some scenes straight from the film - and I've tried to splice them together to get one even awesomer story. So, Newtmas, but misunderstandings & heartache throughout. Slow burn, angst etc.
1. Day One Greenie

The first memory Thomas could clearly remember, was waking up in the darkness. The only thing he knew for certain, was his own name, and even that took a moment to come to him. He wasn't sure how long he had been in the darkness, his prison slowly rising to some unknown location. He had no way to measure the time passing around him. After what felt like an entire lifetime, he finally came to a stop, and the only sounds he could hear was his own racing heart and terrified panting.

A minute passed. Two. He felt all around the walls, but there was no escape. No hidden door or window, nothing but cool metal. He groaned in frustration; the echo amplified through the air around him. He pounded the walls with his fists and screamed for help. " _Someone... please... help me!"_ Each word ripped his throat raw.

A loud clank above him had him jumping back against the wall, sucking in a startled breath as he looked up. A narrow line of light appeared straight down the centre of the ceiling, and Thomas watched, fascinated and terrified in one, as it expanded. A heavy grating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in the darkness, the light stabbed his eyes and he looked away, covering his face with his hands. He heard noises, voices above him, and fear squeezed his chest tightly.

Thomas listened to the voices, the sounds, but paid no attention to what they were saying; more intent on slowly filtering more light through his fingers so his eyes could adjust to the change quicker. He slowly lowered his hands and squinted towards the light and those speaking. At first he could see only shadows, blurring into rough body shapes, people bending over to look and point at him.

Then, as if a lens had suddenly sharpened its focus; the world snapped into focus, and the faces cleared. He looked up at countless boys surrounding him, and felt a mixture of terror and curiosity. He swung his head back and forth and tried to meet the eyes of the other boys, desperately hoping for some sort of acknowledgement, some kind of recognition. But there was none.

Someone lowered a rope from above, the end of it tied into a big loop. Thomas hesitated, before backing away, frowning at the innocent rope as if they were offering him a noose as opposed to a potential exit. He heard several boys begin to laugh, but he stubbornly held his place and tried to arrange his face into a glare, hoping to appear at least a little braver than he felt.

"You thinkin' you can make your own way outta there, Greenie?" A scratchy voice called mockingly, though Thomas couldn't tell where or who it originated from. He scanned the crowd slowly, tilting his chin up in defiance as he refused to answer for as long as possible. "Take the shuck rope!"

"I'm good thanks," Thomas called back, surprised that his voice came out so even when he felt such a tornado of emotions inside himself. He glanced around the gathered boys above him once more. "I think I'm probably happier down here just now, thanks and all." Even he could tell the words were ridiculous as he said them, but the boys laughed loudly at his comment, clearly amused by his defiance. It was clear he had nowhere to go and would eventually have to accept their help, but for whatever reason, he felt he needed to make his stand.

"What, you wanna klunk your pants before you get out?" The scratchy voice taunted. Thomas frowned, the words both familiar and not at the same time.

"Maybe I just don't wanna have to smell you up close." Thomas said, though in truth he couldn't smell anything other than the stale air around him, slowly being replaced with the fresher air from outside. He heard a few guffaws and titters of laughter, and could sense in the air the mixture of irritation and amusement above him.

"Shut your shuck-face, Greenie shank!" The scratchy voice shouted, a boy shoving his way through some of the others to stand on the edge of the prison that held Thomas. He pointed towards Thomas, his eyes filled with anger as he glared menacingly. The boy had shortly cropped dark hair, and a distrusting expression. "Get your shuck, sissy-pants up here!"

Thomas tried to force out a weak laugh, but all that came out was a faint huff. He folded his arms over his chest and tried to seem unaffected by the other boys attitude. The other boy lowered his arm and ran a hand over his short hair, seemingly attempting to calm himself. "You're sure you ain't gonna come quietly, shank?" He asked, and Thomas pretended to think about it, before he shook his head. The other boy grinned suddenly, and Thomas felt his stomach drop, as he registered his mistake.

"Well ok then, shank." The scratchy voiced boy said. "I'm gonna enjoy this." He added, before hopping lightly to the lower lip of the doors. With a couple more well placed jumps, he lowered himself into the prison. Thomas lowered his arms quickly, stumbling to the floor as he tried to escape the other boy in his limited surroundings. The dark haired boy landed on the ground just ahead of him, crouching low over him as he frowned down at him. "Day one Greenie." He said quietly, a dark grin slowly blossoming across his face as he tangled his fists in Thomas's T-shirt. "Rise and shine." He chuckled, before yanking Thomas to his feet.

The dark haired boy grabbed the rope, and immediately, Thomas felt himself rise into the air. He reluctantly clung to the other boy, not relishing the idea of falling back into the prison rapidly descending behind him. The other boy was pulled to his feet, and immediately threw Thomas to the ground, where he rolled to his back and gazed around the many faces gathered around him. The other boys all jeered and laughed, as they pointed down at him on the ground.

He twisted himself on the floor, trying to escape the cage of the other boys legs around him, scrambling backwards on his elbows. His breath came in short bursts, his heart racing as he tried desperately to get away. Finding a break in the boys legs, he shoved himself backwards and turned, stumbling to his feet and setting off at a rapid sprint. He gasped as he ran, hearing the laughs and taunts of the other boys as he ran as fast and as far as he could. He would have continued to run, if he hadn't hit a rock and tripped, rolling across the hard stone floor painfully.

He grunted as he pushed himself to his elbows, his breath escaping him in a sudden rush, as he finally noticed the huge grey walls ahead of him. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, gradually turning in a slow circle to take in the sight of the tall walls on all sides. His head twisted this way and that, barely noticing the group of boys still stood watching him with loud hollers from their now far away position behind him. He lowered his eyes to the far wall, where there was an opening in the wall, though it sent a chill down his spine. It looked like a large jaw, stretched wide and ready to devour anyone who foolishly stepped inside.

Now he was out of the moving prison, there was an abundance of new sensations; the wind on his skin, the voices around him, the sense of unending curiosity, underlined with the faint traces of fear. He stood, gathering his thoughts and trying to catch his breath, staring at the dark opening in the wall with a sense of foreboding heavy in his heart.

He was startled by a hand landing on his shoulder, and he jerked away from it with a light jump. A dark-skinned boy frowned at him, lowering his arm to fold over his chest. He appeared to be around seventeen, wearing normal clothes; a dark T-shirt, jeans, trainers and a digital watch. For some reason it surprised Thomas, this sense of normality with the clothing; it seemed more like everyone should be in something more menacing, like stripey prison garb perhaps. The boy had closely cropped dark hair, his face clean shaven but wearing a permanent scowl.

The next few minutes were a blur. Thomas knew he spoke, he vaguely remembered being answered, but he didn't recollect actually asking or hearing the replies; only knew that he knew what they were. He felt his frustration rise, desperately just wishing the blankness in his mind would clear and he could remember something, anything about why he was sent to this confusing place.

They walked a way around the Glade, as the boy called it, but when offered the chance to shake his hand; Thomas refused, some instinct taking over is actions as without saying anything more he turned away and walked to the nearest tree. There he leaned against the bark, and allowed himself to slip to the ground with a sigh. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his thoughts whirling though his mind. Panic began to swell within him, almost too much to bear. But he took a deep breath and forced himself to try and accept the situation. Although the dark-skinned boy with the permanent scowl had done nothing to set his mind at ease, seemingly unwilling to answer any simple questions with anything other than a vaguely threatening non-answer, he knew there must be a reason; and if there weren't well, there were plenty of other boys to ask his questions of.

After one such outburst from the dark-skinned boy, Thomas saw a blond coming up behind the him, playfully slapping him across the head. "Wait for the bloody tour Alby," the boy said, his voice thick with an odd accent. He watched Thomas from the corner of his eyes, though he was facing the other boy, Alby. "Kid's gonna have a buggin' heart attack, nothin' even been heard yet." The newcomer turned toward Thomas fully, bending down slightly as he extended his hand towards where Thomas sat. "Name's Newt, Greenie, and we'd be right cheery if ya'd forgive out klunk-for-brains leader here."

Thomas hesitated, his eyes flicking to the boy who moments ago he had refused to shake hands with. After only a second of internal debate, he slowly reached out and took the blond's hand in his own, shaking it firmly. He would forever deny that he had wanted to keep hold of that hand, that he had wanted to beg the boy for answers which the other boy, Alby he recalled was his name, seemed utterly intent on refusing him.

"Pipe it, shuck-face," Alby grumbled, tugging for Newt to sit beside him. Thomas noticed the easy familiarity between the two, and felt his curiosity peak. How long had these two known each other? How long had any of them? "At least he can understand _half_ my words." The dark skinned boy teased, lightly jabbing the blond in the arm as Newt flopped to the ground into an undignified heap.

Thomas was ashamed to admit to himself that he missed most of what Alby said next, too intent as he was on discreetly examining the blond closer. When he was standing, it had appeared Newt was taller than Alby, though he also appeared younger. He had blond hair which he clearly didn't cut either often or neatly, seeing as it cascaded messily over the top of his shoulders and T-shirt. Veins stuck out of his muscled arms. Thomas swallowed, and noticed Alby was pausing in his speech. Sensing an opportunity to make it seem he had not been staring at one of the other boys quite so intently, he immediately launched into asking a question.

"Who sent me here?" He felt the angry bite of his words, and tried to shrug the anger away, trying to make it plain to the other boys gathered that his frustration and anger wasn't aimed at _them._ "How'd-"

However, Alby cut off his attempt to discover what was happening, the dark-skinned boy leaned forward on his knees, grabbing Thomas by the shirt. "Get up, shank! Get up!"Alby growled, standing and pulling Thomas with him, despite the noiret's attempts to struggle away. He managed to back into the tree behind him, but Alby remained in his face, glowering angrily at him. "No interruptions boy!" Alby shouted. "Whacker, if we told you everything, you'd die on the spot! Right after you klunked your pants. Baggers'd drag you off, and you ain't no good to us then, are ya?"

"I don't even know what you're talking about!" Thomas finally cried, shoving Alby's hand from his shirt and forcing his back away from the tree, sick of feeling like some disappointing child being scolded. He stood straight and glared at Alby, who was about to take a menacing step towards him, when a hand that was connected to a heavily muscled, thickly veined arm, pressed against his shoulder.

"Alby," Newt said calmly, stepping between the two. "Lay off a bit. You're hurtin' more than helpin', ya know?"

Alby finally stepped away, wrenching his shoulder from Newt's grasp. "Ain't got time to be nice." The dark skinned boy murmured to the blond, before scowling over at Thomas. "Old life's over, new life's begun. Learn the rules quick. Listen, don't talk. You get me?" He spat, seemingly furious with Thomas just for asking questions that sure he himself had asked, at one time or another. Thomas glanced at Newt, hoping for help when he met the blond's eyes, as he looked back at Thomas over his shoulder.

"You get him, right Greenie?" Newt nodded lightly and Thomas copied the gesture, mumbling his assent as he averted his eyes. He wanted to punch someone, to scream, to rage at them for treating him like such a baby about things they had clearly experienced themselves, but he didn't. He kept his eyes lowered, and waited for the sounds of the others leaving to die down. He felt a hand clap him on the shoulder, and he looked up in surprise, meeting Newt's calm gaze immediately.

"Greenie, we've all felt what you're feelin'. We've all had First Day, all come outta that dark box." Newt said quietly, steering him by the shoulder to sit against the tree again, before sitting beside him. "Things are bad, they are; and they'll get much worse for ya soon, that's the truth. But down the road a piece, you'll be fightin' true and good. I can tell you're not a bloody sissy."

Thomas gave a startled laugh, amused despite his mounting frustration. He opened his mouth, about to ask the blond as much as he could, but no words escaped him. His eyes raked over the boy before him, who grinned knowingly at him, and slowly he came to understand the boys amusement. "You aren't going to answer anything I ask you, are you?" He finally asked Newt, who laughed.

"You learn quick you, don't ya, Greenie?" Newt joked lightheartedly, looking moderately impressed that Thomas had worked it out at all. He smiled genuinely at the noiret, and Thomas felt something in his stomach flutter at the wholesome expression. He smiled weakly himself, unable to contain the motion as much as he tried. Perhaps it was the other boys genuine honesty, in so far as he openly admitted he wouldn't tell him anything, or the lack of malice in his eyes when he looked at Thomas, but whatever it was told him that this was a boy he could trust. This boy, while not always willing to tell him things before it was necessary, would never outright lie to him; and he felt it in his very bones, that he would reciprocate the gesture.

"Listen," Newt began, pausing a moment as if uncertain whether he should continue. After a moment of scrutiny, he grinned, seemingly shaking off his indifference. "That was some dash earlier. Ya know, for a second then, I almost thought you had the chops to be a runner..." Newt threw Thomas a sly smile, almost laughing as he jostled him lightly with his foot. "Til ya face-planted." Newt laughed, and Thomas was half tempted to himself, feeling the lighthearted joke for what it was. But his curiosity spiked, and he found himself unable to lose himself in the pleasant feeling of acceptance until he clarified he had heard right."

"Wait, w-" Thomas felt his brow pinch together, trying to understand all the familiar, yet unfamiliar words. "Runner?" He asked, watching as Newt threw him a withering halfhearted glare. Thomas couldn't contain his laughter this time, the frustration of the situation melting away as he realized he had already been told he wouldn't be given any straight answers. He continued to chuckle lightly, his head tilting back against the tree as he rested his already tired eyes.

"Chuck'll be a good fit for ya." Newt said suddenly, as if shaking himself out of a trance. Thomas lowered his gaze, watching as Newt eyed him through narrowed eyes, clearly thinking about something. "Wee little fat shank, but nice sap when all's said and done. Stay here, I'll be back." He said, gesturing towards where Thomas sat with his chin. No sooner had the words left his mouth however, than a piercing shriek ripped through the peaceful quiet of the Glade, causing even the blond to jump as if startled, his forehead creasing in a mix of concern and frustration.

"Shuck it," he said. "Can't the bloody Med-jacks handle that boy for ten minutes without needin' my help?" He shook his head as he got to his feet. Once standing, he nudged Thomas's foot with his own, grinning down at him, though he was clearly still worried about whatever had caused the loud shriek. "Find Chuckie, tell him he's in charge of your sleepin' arrangements."

"Do you need any help..?" Thomas offered quickly, scrambling to his feet. He didn't particularly want to go anywhere near whatever was making the awful screams, but he also felt that so far, Newt had been the friendliest of those who he'd spoken to, and he wasn't keen on losing his new... acquaintance, so quickly. He may also have a small desire for the other boy to like him, not that he would ever admit it. Newt looked surprised for a moment, before he easily smoothed his face into a genuine grin.

"Shuck, ya a sweet one Greenie, but don't worry about it for now." Newt said gently, nudging him again, this time with his loose fist into Thomas's shoulder. "You just go ahead and find ol' Chuckie like I said. I'll come check on ya later, see how your settlin' in." And then he turned, heading in the direction of the building-like shack on the opposite side of the Glade. Thomas watched Newt run, leaning back against the tree and slowly allowing himself to slip down its rough bark until he sat once more. Only once Newt had entirely disappeared from his view, did he allow his eyes to close, half wishing he could wake up from whatever terrible nightmare he was trapped inside of; half thinking that Newt looked just as handsome from the back as he appeared from the front.

He was only left to his own amusement for a short while, before the sounds of someone scuffling nearby had his attention finally shifting away from the haggard building which Newt had run into. A short pudgy kid was coming around his tree, and he plopped to the ground before Thomas. He appeared to be the youngest he'd seen so far, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, with brown hair which curled around his ears and neck, just barely scraping the tops of his shoulders. Blue eyes shone through a pitiful face, flabby and flushed.

The boy appeared about to speak, when another scream tore through the air. The sound was long and tormented, and caused Thomas's heart to lurch. "What's going on in there?" He asked the boy, gesturing towards the shack with his chin, his eyes searching the upper windows for signs of movement.

"Don't know," the chubby kid replied; his voice still carrying the high pitch of childhood. "Ben's in there, sicker than a dog. _They_ got him."

"They?" Thomas finally looked away from the shack, focusing on the clearly uncomfortable boy. He didn't like the malicious way the boy had said the word, it made his skin prickle as if ants were crawling over him.

"Yeah." The boy said, clearly hoping Thomas would drop it if he didn't elaborate.

"Who are _they?_ " Thomas asked, feeling frustrated that he was being treated like an idiot child who didn't know what was best for himself. He frowned, unable to picture any mother to scold him, yet somehow imagining that one would, if this scenario were to play out with them.

"Better hope you never find out," the kid said with an air of dismissal, holding his hand out in a clear attempt to change the subject. "My name's Chuck, I was the GreenBean until you showed up." Thomas frowned, annoyance and frustration combining into an extreme discomfort that he just couldn't shake. He couldn't help but wonder why Newt had been so adamant that this kid would be 'a good match' for him. Nothing made sense, his head hurt.

"Why is everyone calling me Greenie?" He asked, shaking Chuck's hand quickly, then letting go.

"Cuz you're the newest newbie." Chuck laughed, as if the answer were obvious. "It's basically the same for all of us. We wake up in the box, Alby gives us the Tour, then here we are." Chuck explained, making the entire brain-hurting situation sound like the simplest of children's stories. Thomas was almost impressed by the way he both gave him answers, and didn't all at once. "Don't worry, you're already doin' better'n I did. I klunked my pants three times before they got me outta the pit." Chuck laughed, just as another scream came from the house, like a starving animal being tortured.

"How can you be laughing?" Thomas asked after a long and quiet moment of contemplation. He was horrified by the noise, but just as much by the young boys clear indifference to it. "It sounds like someone's _dying_ in there..." He shook his head, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hands as he tried to understand the crazy situation he was in.

"He'll be ok, nobody dies if they make it back in time to get the Serum." Chuck said, and though he still seemed overall to be indifferent of the screaming, he averted his eyes as if uncomfortable with the subject. "It's all or nothing. Dead or not dead. Just hurts a lot."

Thomas decided not to ask what 'hurt a lot,' half expecting that he wouldn't get a straight answer anyway. Chuck rolled his eyes, almost as if he could hear his skeptical thoughts.

Thomas pushed to his feet, unable to sit and do nothing while feeling such a jumble of confusing emotions writhing within him. He walked past Chuck, who scrambled to his feet and trotted to keep up, as Thomas walked slowly towards the shack where the screams had emanated from. As he moved across the courtyard, the distinct smell of firewood and some kind of meat cooking made his stomach grumble. He wondered vaguely when the last time he ate had been.

"Hey, hey Greenie," Chuck called from behind, sounding out of breath. "What's your name?"

"What?"

"Your name," Chuck repeated. "You haven't told us yet, and I know remember that much.

"It's Thomas." He said slowly, barely even hearing the words escape him. If Chuck was right, then this was a link; a common ground between himself and everyone else in this confusing place. They all remembered their names. But only the first, for some reason, everything else had been erased from them. His mind whirled, wanting to find some secret the other boys hadn't spotted through this connection, but unable to see anything other than a bunch of kids with no past, and an unknown future, judging from the screams he had heard earlier.

"Nice to meet you, Thomas," Chuck said, oblivious of Thomas's internal turmoil. "Don't you worry, I'll take care of you. I been here a whole month, and I know this place inside and out. You can count on ol' Chuck, ok?"

"Except if I want answers," Thomas murmured distractedly, pausing outside the shack to tilt his head back and look up at the windows above him. He was surprised by the sudden rush of anger that swept through him. He clenched his hands into fists and looked down at Chuck. "You can't even _tell_ me anything. I wouldn't call that taking care of me." He turned away from the boy, not sure where his new sense of courage and resolve had come from but resolutely determined not to feel bad for his frustration. If they had all been through what he had, then why did they not understand why he wanted to know things?

"Nothin' I say'll do you any good, I'm basically still a newbie too." He said, shrugging his shoulders before smiling up at him. "But I can be your friend."

Thomas bit down on his tongue hard, frustrated with himself as much as the other boy when his initial reaction was to lash out at him. He shook his head lightly and pulled open the door to the shack, revealing several stoic faced boys at the foot of a crooked staircase. "Hey look, its the GreenBean," one of the older boys called out. With a start, Thomas realized it was the dark haired boy who had forcibly yanked him out of the box. He looked like he was fifteen or so, tall and moderately muscular. Still Thomas felt his uneasiness of the boy dwindle the longer he was around him. "This shank probably klunked his pants when he heard lil ol' Benny baby scream like a girl. Need a clean nappy, shuck-face?"

"My name is Thomas." He said dryly, before heading for the stairs, hoping to get away from the guy. He had no idea where they led, but he also had no clue what else to say, so he just wanted to get away as fast as he could. However, the bully stepped into his path, blocking his escape.

"Hold on there, Greenie," he said, jerking his thumb up the stairs over his shoulder. "Newbies aren't allowed to see someone whose been... _taken._ Newt and Alby won't allow it."

"Dude, what the hell is your problem?" Thomas sighed, a headache forming from having to deal with the boy who seemed to hate him so much already. "I don't even know where the hell I am, why I'm here or how I even _got_ here; wherever _here_ is." He ran a hand through his hair, noting absently that it felt like it was shorter than Chuck's, and straight instead of curling, though that could be from the dampness after his earlier sprint. "I just want some help man, and for people who have all been through this yourselves already; you all seem hellbent on making it a thousand times harder for me to wrap my head around it all. But _you..._ You got a special problem, don't you?" Thomas surprised himself, not having planned to say half of what he had. His overall frustration had leaked through, and he had said things as they came to him. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, peeking up at the other boy sheepishly.

"You're right." The boy said, clicking his tongue as he narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "Listen up, Greenie," the boy said, leaning closer so the others wouldn't overhear. Thomas wasn't sure if this was to allow him some privacy, or to save the other boy embarrassment. He suspected the latter. "I've seen you before. Something's fishy about you showing up here, and I'm gonna figure out what."

A surge of heat pulsed through Thomas, the irrational irritation of being accused of _something,_ yet having no idea what; nor why. "I-" He paused, the retort that he had never seen the other boy in his life, dying on his tongue. What if he had, and just couldn't remember? Who was he to say who he had seen in his life, perhaps he was _from_ this place, and had been erased for a time to see how people reacted to his return. But, that seemed far-fetched. He felt the pain in his head escalate, and he shook it as if to shake the very thoughts from it. "I have no idea who you are, and I couldn't care less." He spat, frustrated with the entire situation.

The bully sniggered, as if Thomas had told some great joke, before his face became serious again, his brow creasing into a heavy frown. "I've... _seen_ you, shank. Not too many in these parts can say they've been stung." He gestured over his shoulder once more, up the stairs behind him. "I have. I know what ol' Benny's going through. I saw _you_ during the Changing." He stepped forward, reaching out to poke Thomas in the chest as he whispered menacingly. "And I bet your first meal from Frypan; Benny'll say he's seen you too."

Thomas said nothing, feeling the panic drain the blood from his face but unable to do anything about it. He forced himself to meet the other boys eyes with a glare, frustrated that things only seemed to be getting more confusing, with no sign of any answers coming his way.

"Ready to wet yourself now?" The boy sneered, grinning an awful grimace of a grin. "Little scared now? Don't wanna get _stung,_ do ya?"

Thomas frowned at the repetition of the word; _stung._ He didn't want to think about what could sting anyone badly enough to cause the screams he had heard earlier. He glanced up the stairs over the boys shoulder, before meeting his eyes steadily once more. "If Newt went up there, then I wanna go. I wanna talk to him."

"Got yourself a boyfriend already, have ya?" The boy sniggered, obviously finding himself hilarious.

Thomas felt his brows rise, surprised that the accusation didn't bother him. Was he even into boys? Had he had boyfriends before? What the boy had though was an insult, merely opened Thomas's mind to yet more things he hadn't even considered since he'd been dragged out of the box. "Maybe I just think he's the only one here who isn't an asshole." He said blandly, causing some of the other boys to muffle their laughter, as the boy in his way glared at him.

"You know what?" The boy asked, shaking his head with his brows raised, as if he had suddenly realized he was indeed being an asshole. "You're right, Greenie. I shouldn't have been so mean to the Newbie. Go on upstairs, I'm sure Alby and Newt can fill you in." He stepped out of Thomas's way, gesturing towards the stairs. If it weren't for his obviously insincere tone, Thomas might not have felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He might have lost his memory, but that didn't make him an idiot. The guy was up to something.

"What's your name?" He asked, stalling for time as he slowly stepped towards the stairs, though all he wanted was to leave and wait back by his tree for Newt to return.

"Gally." The boy replied, smiling for the first time, though it didn't meet his eyes. Thomas's stomach turned.

"Ok then..." Thomas said slowly, stepping onto the first step. He exaggerated a salute, knowing it was crossing a line but not caring anymore as his gut churned with so many conflicting emotions. "Captain Gally, sir."

More sniggers escaped the other boys, and Gally glared around him, turning a bright red as he turned back to Thomas, hatred in his eyes.

"Just get up there," he spat with a sneer. "And stay the shuck away from me, you little slinthead." Thomas saluted again, much more mockingly than he had originally; and with a cheeky grin to match. He immediately turned and trotted up the stairs, feeling a burst of adrenaline from his defiance. He fully expected this moment to bite him in the ass sometime in the future, but he couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself for not backing down. He half wished he had never come inside, but, he _did_ want to talk to that Newt guy, so he pressed on up the rickety stairs.

When he finally reached the landing, there was only one door with light beneath it. He took a deep breath and tried to throw out all thoughts of Gally for the time being, focusing instead on his desire to speak with Newt. However, that brought back Gally's attempted insult about picking a _boyfriend,_ which made his stomach churn for a whole different reason. He wasn't sure why, but the words made him flush with warmth.

Shaking his head to clear the foolish line of thought trying to wheedle into his mind, he approached the lit door. Each step closer he took, filled him with a sense of dread which left a bad taste in the back of his throat. His hand rose to the brass handle, but he couldn't bring himself to turn it, his heart racing as he imagined all sorts of horrible things hidden just the other side of the door. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to banish the images from his mind. He swallowed hard, before his eyes opened, and he turned the handle; quietly pushing the door open.

Newt and Alby were crouched over someone lying on a bed, and Thomas leaned through the doorway, about to announce his presence, when his eyes drifted to the other person, and he instead had to fight against the bile trying to rise in his throat. He immediately averted his gaze, but it was enough for the sight to haunt him for the rest of his life; no matter how long it would be.

A twisted pale figure, writhing in agony beneath Newt and Alby's restraining hands. Tight rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boys body and limbs, while purplish bruises, red hives and bloody scratches adorned his bare chest. His eyes were bloodshot, frantically darting back and forth between the two boys holding him down on the bed. Newt looked over his shoulder at him, and his exasperated glare was enough to make Thomas feel ashamed for having come in at all. However, it was Alby who jumped in Thomas's way; shoving him from the room. Thomas had a bare glimpse of Newt's almost apologetic expression, before the door was slammed shut between them.

"What're you doing up here, Greenie?" Alby demanded, his lips taut with anger; his eyes ablaze with it.

"I, uh-" Thomas felt weak, his earlier desires to speak with Newt seeming suddenly not so urgent in the light of what they had been dealing with. "I wanted some answers."He said, though he couldn't put any real strength into the words. He drew in a deep breath, trying to recapture some of the earlier fire and defiance he had felt. He found the dregs, and gathered them all eagerly. "You say you've been through all this yourselves, but you won't tell me _anything._ Surely you must know that's even worse than if you had nothing _to_ tell me? I'm not asking for a lot here, just... I wanted to talk to someone. I want to understand. Not knowing is driving me more crazy than the fact that all this has even happened." Thomas explained in a rush, as if concerned that should he stop he might lose the words entirely.

Alby stared at him for a moment, seeming genuinely surprised. His expression morphed to thoughtful, before rushing back to irritated. "Get your runtcheeks downstairs." He ordered sharply, thought not so unkindly as he had previously. "Chuck'll help you. You can talk to him, he's been through everything you have too; we _all_ have. It's why we do things the way we do now; we've learnt from our mistakes." He ran a hand over his short cropped hair, scratching his scalp a moment before releasing a huff of air. "Look, we got something special planned tonight; newbie night. So, just, keep yourself outta trouble til then, ok?"

"And then you'll give me some answers?" Thomas couldn't stop the question rushing from him, like it had a mind of its own.

Alby even chuckled at his persistence. "Maybe, shank, maybe. Now go, or I'll throw you off the Cliff myself, you get me?"

Thomas wasn't sure how to feel. On the one hand, he was no further forward in knowing what was going on; but on the other, he had a promise that they would at least talk later, if nothing else. He nodded to Alby, then turned without another word, heading back down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he grinned, and even winked at Gally; who glared furiously, but he didn't really feel the joy of annoying the other boy.

"Come on, Chuck," he said, spotting the chubby boy waiting just outside of the shack for him. He started back towards his tree, deciding to just wait out the time until this 'special something' that was planned for later in the night.

"You got it," Chuck replied, his voice chipper, as if thrilled that Thomas wanted to spend time with him. "But first I'm gonna get you something to eat."

"I don't know if I can ever eat again." Thomas said, his thoughts going to the sick boy upstairs. He shuddered as he recalled just what he had seen, and tried to erase the image from his mind once more.

Chuck chuckled, and nodded knowingly. "Yeah, you will. I'll meet you at the tree in ten minutes."

Thomas walked slowly back towards his tree. He had only known what it was like to live here for a short while, and already he wasn't sure if he could see anything good about it. He wished for all the world he could remember something about his previous life, any little thing at all. His mother, his father, a friend, the school he must have attended, whether he'd had a hobby. A girl. A boy. Anything that might tell him who he was.

He blinked hard several times, trying to force away the fog in his mind that obscured his past. Though it wasn't cold in the Glade, Thomas drew his knees up to his chest, and couldn't help the shudder that escaped him.

* * *

 **A/N:~ I'm not gonna lie; I was hesitant to post this at all. I don't want people to hate me for writing it... but; this series is so good. I read it/watched it - and I could SEE all these moments between Newt and Thomas and I just thought; why wasn't this Canon? So, I had to write it out and see how it worked.**  
 **Because I'm not selfish; I don't wanna hog that. So, I've shared it with everyone else too. It's not like I'm saying I own any of the original story; because that's just stupid. But, I just so want to see this story through... Please let me know what you thought though; if the overall consensus is that I shouldn't write it then, well I will see about taking it down again...**

 **Either way,**

 **x My love to you all x**


	2. Welcome To The Glade

Thomas leaned against what he had adopted as his tree, tempted to stay there permanently in this place of nightmares, where it seemed he was destined to live. His eyes scanned lazily across the compound, the shadows lengthening considerably as they crept up the ivy covered faces of the far walls. Which, at the very least, gave Thomas a rough sense of direction. The shack-like building was in the northwest corner, the grove of trees were in the southwest. What appeared to be a farming area spread across the entire eastern side; the north filled with workers in fields, the south filled with animals that mooed, crowed and brayed their way through the day.

In the exact middle of the compound, lay the box. It was almost as if it were inviting him to jump back in, an escape from the rabbit hole he seemed to have fallen down. Near that, but slightly to the south, stood a squat concrete building, with only a menacing iron door for an entrance. There were no windows. Despite the awful things he had seen, Thomas couldn't tell which he felt more, curiosity at what lay inside, or dread of finding out.

Thomas's attention had just shifted to the vast opening in the middle of the main wall of the Glade, when Chuck arrived with a couple of sandwiches tucked under his arm, along with fresh green apples and two metal cups of water. The sense of relief that flooded Thomas almost overwhelmed him, the fact he wasn't alone in what he was going through a constant surprise to him.

"Frypan was none too happy about me raiding his kitchen so near suppertime," Chuck said, settling himself on the far side of Thomas's tree with a sandwich and gesturing for the noiret to do the same. Thomas did so eagerly, but paused at the last moment, his sandwich already raised almost to his lips. The monstrous, writhing image of the sick boy inside the shack popped into his mind, turning his stomach. However, his hunger won out over his nausea, and he took a large bite. He groaned at the wonderful taste of ham, cheese and mayonnaise. He heard Chuck give a quiet chuckle of amusement, and was pleased the other boy couldn't actually see him from where he sat.

"Ah, man," Thomas sighed, stuffing his cheeks with more of the flavorsome sandwich. "I'm starvin'." He slurred in surprise, his mouth still partially full.

"Told ya," Chuck said, sounding slightly smug as he chomped into his own sandwich. They ate in silence, as Thomas quickly demolished the other half of his sandwich and drank his water, washing the sticky mass down so he could actually breath again.

After another few moments of companionable silence, broken only by the sounds of Chuck chewing and Thomas panting to catch his breath, he finally asked the question that had been bothering him. "What's actually _wrong_ with him, that Ben guy?" He paused, shivering as the memory of the tortured body on the bed flashed before his eyelids. "He didn't even look human anymore..." He muttered.

"Don't really know," Chuck immediately replied. "I didn't see him."

It would have been obvious to a blind man, that the chubby boy was being less than honest, but he decided not to press him. "Well, you don't want to see him, trust me." He muttered, munching his apple as he returned his attention to the huge break in the wall. Though it was hard to make out from where he sat, there was something odd about the stone edges of the exits to the outside corridors. He felt an uncomfortable sense of vertigo, and foreboding, just looking at the towering walls with the hole gaping like a giant mouth, ready to devour anyone foolish enough to enter.

"What's out there?" He asked, finally breaking the comfortable silence between them. "Is this part of some huge castle or something?"

Chuck was noticeably silent for a pause that was too long to be coincidental, and Thomas leaned around the tree, turning to find the boy pointedly looking away from the opening. "Um, I-uh, I've never left the Glade." He finally stuttered, and Thomas frowned as he turned his back to the boy once more.

"You're hiding something." He said at last, his frustration mounting once more, as he again got non-answers and evasions. "Why are you guys so secretive? You all say you've been through this before; then how can you stand to know how much worse you all make it by clamming up and avoiding everything?" He ranted, running a hand through his hair.

"That's just the way it is," came Chuck's quiet reply, seemingly uncomfortable with the entire conversation. "Things are really weird around here, and most of us don't know everything; _half_ of everything."

It bothered Thomas more than he thought it should, that Chuck didn't seem to care at all about what he had just said. That he seemed indifferent to having had his life stolen right from out beneath him. He quietly got to his feet, hoping the other boy wouldn't notice so he could have a moment to sort through his turbulent thoughts alone. He figured that for all their secrets, they hadn't actually said anything about him exploring. He set off at a brisk jog, but soon slowed to a more cautious walk, his eyes darting all across the tall walls for any clues as to what the giant hole could be for; other than scaring people.

"Dude!" Chuck's cry almost made him jump, surprised the boy had noticed he had left so soon, and that he had been both so swift, and so quiet in catching him up. "Where are you _g_ _oing?_ " The chubby boy scolded, his eyes darting around the area as if expecting other boys to come and apprehend them. Thomas barely glanced at the other boy however, determined to find some of his own answers, as nobody would give him any.

"I just wanna see," he said dismissively, continuing towards the looming wall.

"Take a look around all you want," Chuck said quickly, trotting to keep up with Thomas's longer stride. "But you better not go out there!" The young boy warned.

"Why not?" Thomas demanded suddenly, rounding on the smaller boy. His frustration itched beneath his skin, the forced unhelpful nature of the other boys making his head hurt all over again as he tried to fathom them out. "What's through there?"

"I don't know!" Yelled Chuck, and Thomas's brow raised at the attempt to scold him. If he weren't so tightly wound up with frustration, he might have laughed at the younger boys attempt to scold him. Chuck sighed, rolling his eyes as his shoulders dropped, seeming to relent a little. "I just know what I'm told, that I'm not supposed to leave."

Thomas frowned, but said nothing, turning his attention back to the dark opening in the tall wall ahead of him. He took half a step forward, before a hand on his arm forced him to stop. "Seriously Thomas, be careful; those puppies are about to close."

"Close?" Thomas repeated, his brow furrowing further. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said, shank!" Chuck fumed, his cheeks reddened by frustration. Thomas almost felt bad, almost. "The doors are about to close!"

"Doors? What doors, I don't see any doors." Thomas scoffed, turning a half circle with his arms spread as if to make a point. He knew he was being a bit of a dick by this point, but he also knew he was missing something obvious, and it only served to frustrate him further than he already was.

"What would you call those big openings?" Chuck huffed, folding his arms over his chest.

"Uh, big openings?" Said Thomas, trying to cover his discomfort with sarcasm and disappointed in himself when it clearly failed.

"Right, well what about once they're _closed?"_ Chuck asked, as if talking to a particularly stubborn child. Thomas supposed the analogy wasn't far wrong. "They can't be _openings,_ when there is no opening anymore, can they?"

"You're jacked in the head," Thomas muttered, his irritation winning out as he walked slowly closer to the opening. He heard Chuck call him, but ignored the boy, tired of the way even he was treating him like an idiot. He stopped suddenly, when a boy unexpectedly appeared at the end of the corridor, jogging at an even pace through the opening into the Glade, and continuing straight past them. An Asian boy with thick, heavily muscled arms. He stared at Thomas as he past, turning to run backwards for a short while before finally turning away and running towards the concrete building with the menacing iron door. "I thought nobody was allowed to leave..." He said, turning an accusing glare towards the chubby boy beside him.

"No, I said _we're_ not allowed to leave; he's different, he's a runner." Chuck said, and Thomas almost wanted to drop the whole thing and laugh over how petulant the boy sounded. However, the word 'runner' reminded him of what Newt had said, and he was hit by a wave of excitement that the blond might have envisioned him as someone who might be able to leave this place.

"Runner, what is that? Newt mentioned it before too," he said, trying to be make it sound as if Newt had explained more than he actually had, which was nothing.

"Runner's," Chuck said, glancing towards the opening with obvious distrust. "They know more about the Maze than anyone." The boy shuddered, as if disturbed by the very thought of going out there. Thomas felt his insides ignite with curiosity, his veins burning with desire to know more now that Chuck had let that one little word slip.

"What?" He asked quietly, stepping closer to the opening, staring in awe. Chuck glanced at him, as if finally realizing he had spoken aloud. "You said 'Maze'." Thomas said, glancing back at Chuck.

"What?" Chuck repeated, paling considerably as he glanced back and forth between Thomas and the opening. "I-I, I did?" Chuck's face began to redden again, whether from embarrassment with himself or irritation with Thomas, the noiret couldn't tell, but he could see the boys mind shut itself off as he took a determined step backwards. "I'm done. I'm just, I'm not saying another word." He said, glaring at Thomas as if he had forced him to do something terrible. Thomas almost felt bad, but he turned his focus back to the opening instead, taking another half dozen steps forward when a loud shout rang out from beside him.

"Hey!" Thomas barely had time to turn his head, before Gally collided with his side, shoving him to the hard ground. The boy glared down at him, his breath ragged as he shook his head slightly. "We gotta stop meetin' like this, Greenie." He said with a sneer.

"Get off me!" Thomas cried, scrambling to get his feet under him. He rolled to his stomach and shoved himself away from the hard ground, his palms scraping against the weed riddled concrete. He rose quickly, turning to glare at Gally, who raised his hands and glanced around the Glade.

"Ok, calm, calm, calm, calm," Gally chanted, as if Thomas were a spooked animal. His eyes darted around the compound once more, no doubt noticing the attention that Thomas had already seen the other boys giving them.

"Don't _touch_ me!" Thomas fumed, trying to put some distance between himself and Gally, but failing miserably as the other boy continually blocked his movements closer to the opening. The noiret glanced around himself, seeing boys quit what they were doing and hurrying over, perhaps thinking he and Gally were about to fight and not wanting to miss the spectacle.

"Just take it easy," Gally whispered furiously, his hands raised as in supplication, as Thomas paced wildly. _"Re_ _lax."_

Thomas ran his hands through his hair, his frustration, irritation, fear and curiosity all combining beneath his skin into a physical itch that he had no idea how to even begin scratching. His eyes darted around the approaching boys, and he noticed a familiar face. He stepped towards them and couldn't contain his emotions enough to withhold the outburst. "Hey, what the hell is wrong with you guys?" He cried, startled by his own voice. He hadn't meant to sound quite so desperate.

"Just calm down, alright?" The thick accent helped sooth his frayed nerves, the friendly tone tinged with its own brand of frustration. Although Thomas wanted to do as the blond asked, whose hands were raised similarly to Gally's as if trying to calm a wild animal, the noiret couldn't get a tight enough grip of his emotions yet. He paced back and forth, his eyes pleading with Newt to just _understand_.

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head as he gestured towards the opening behind him. "Why won't you tell me what's out there?" He demanded, feeling the traitorous sting of tears prick his eyes. He growled low in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to clear some of the overwhelming emotions from his system.

"We're trying to protect you." Alby snapped, stepping closer towards Thomas. Newt held an arm against the dark-skinned boy's chest, sharing a meaningful look with the other boy before stepping forward himself.

"It's for ya own good," Newt said quietly, his eyes sincere enough that the mild hysteria Thomas had felt escalating inside him died down a little.

"You-" Thomas paused, his heart racing and his head pounding as he glanced around the boys all gathered around before him. "You can't just keep me here..." He all but pleaded, and something in Newt's gaze seemed to both soften and harden together, as if he had resolved something inside himself in that moment.

"We can't let you leave!" Alby fumed, moving to step forward once more.

" _Why not?!"_ Thomas screamed, but his words were cut off by the loud grinding sound which suddenly cut through the Glade. Thomas turned slowly, gazing up at the opening behind him, as the very ground beneath his feet began to tremble. The enormous stone wall to the right of them seemed to defy every known law of physics as it slowly slid along the ground, throwing sparks and dust as it moved, rock against rock _._ He felt the twitch of his fingers, the urge to run out there and escape this confusing, terrifying, frustrating place before the doors slammed shut. Whether his common sense would have kicked in before he acted would never be discovered, as a warm hand settled on his shoulder, as if the boy holding him in place had read his mind.

He turned to see Newt, his hand raised to Thomas's shoulder, steadying him against the wonder and terror of the impossible act unfurling before his very eyes. The blond smiled, a halfhearted but kind gesture, before the other boys eyes drifted back to the enormous slab of concrete wall that was now almost closed. An echoing boom rumbled across the Glade, as the wall finally sealed shut for the night. Thomas felt one final moment of trepidation, a quick slice of fear through his body, and then it was gone.

A surprising sense of calm finally settled over his nerves, and he let out a long sigh of relief as Newt squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Wow," he whispered, immediately flushing and feeling dumb at such a monumental understatement. He heard Newt laugh quietly behind him, but his attention was stolen by movement to the left of him.

"Next time," Gally said quietly, unfolding the arms he had crossed over his chest while watching the huge doors close for the night. The other boy stepped closer to Thomas, leaning in to whisper menacingly. "I'm gonna _let_ you leave." He shoved Thomas with his shoulder, before beginning to walk away. Thomas knew he really shouldn't retaliate, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to take Gally down a peg.

"Yessir, Captain Gally, sir!" He called after the boy. Gally paused mid-step, his entire frame locked solid, as if fighting the urge to turn and start a fight. Thomas swallowed, watching as Gally forced the tension from his shoulders and continued walking away, though his hands were still balled into tight fists. He heard a light tsk, and next second felt a sharp slap around the back of his head. "Ow!" He muttered, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to meet Newt's unimpressed glare.

"Ya really think you need to be pickin' a fight with Gally just now?" The blond asked, tapping his toe against the ground as he examined Thomas quickly with his eyes. Thomas felt himself flush under the attention, clearing his throat as the other boys all began to follow Gally's lead and walk away, sensing the drama was over for the time being.

" _Need_ is such a strong word," Thomas said slowly, as if carefully pondering each of his words. "I'd say its more like, he makes it too easy and I'm happy to oblige." He said, grinning cheekily as he winked at the blond. Newt finally cracked a grin, dropping his hand from Thomas's shoulder as he turned towards what Thomas thought was called the homestead.

"Look, I'm not gonna deny, Gally can be a buggin' slinthead," Newt began, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Thomas was following him. "But you need to know when to pick your fight's, Greenie." Newt narrowed his eyes, staring hard at Gally's retreating back. "He wasn' always like this. Bein' stung, buggin' changes a guy, ya know?"

"Um, no, can't say I do really, no." Thomas said quickly, having to stop sharply when Newt stopped suddenly came to a halt before him. "Thought that was kinda the point, me not knowing anything..." He murmured, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't like the idea that something he had done was bothering the blond.

"I guess that's true," Newt said quietly, almost to the point that Thomas had to strain to hear him. The blond spun suddenly, a huge grin splitting his face as he slung an arm around the back of Thomas's neck and drew him close, pressing their foreheads together. Thomas felt the rush of heat in his cheeks, confused by the blond's sudden change in mood. "Come on then, Greenie; lets get ya filled in."

"What?" Thomas balked, pulling away from Newt's tight grip. The blond laughed at the confusion that was no doubt plastered across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement as he released Thomas.

"I thought ya wanted bloody answers," Newt teased, his hands settling on his hips as he watch Thomas try to work out what was happening. "I'm offerin' to explain some stuff. Course if ya changed your mind and ya now happy to just sit back and slim it at last-"

"No!" Thomas quickly interjected, ignoring the knowing grin Newt gave him. "No, I haven't uh, changed my mind. Nope, still want answers." Thomas said, knowing he was babbling by this point but unable to stop himself. He bit his lip, determined to get his rambling under control. Newt just watched him until it was clear he wasn't going to embarrass himself any further, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Why are you suddenly offering to help me though, what happened to 'for ya own good'?" Thomas couldn't help but ask, his cheeks burning at his failed attempt to imitate Newt's odd accent.

"Well, seems like you gotta bit of a penchant for gettin' into buggin' trouble," Newt said with an exasperated, and exaggerated, sigh. "Seems to me that'd be easier to jus' tell ya and get it over with. Less headache's for me too, havin' to keep an eye on ya quite so much." Thomas felt warmth spread within him, the thought that anyone was watching out for him in this hell-like place, let alone the blond himself, was touching in a way he couldn't quite put into words.

"You'll really tell me?" Thomas asked, skeptical after receiving nothing but half answers and evasions for so long. Newt rolled his eyes and grinned lopsidedly, nodding his head towards the darkening sky.

"You stick with me tonight, Greenie," he said, moving once more towards the homestead. "I'll tell you what I can, and after that, ya'll take my word for it that anything else ya need to know I'll tell you, as and when ya need to know. Get me?"

Thomas frowned, thinking it wasn't exactly a promise to finally get enough answers to actually understand this insane place, but ultimately deciding that it was better than the steaming pile of nothing he had been offered so far. He nodded his head, falling into step behind the other boy, before realizing that Newt couldn't actually see him. "Yeah, yeah I get you." He finally said, hoping the other boy didn't hear the excitement he felt at the thought of finally having some answers, even if not all.

Newt led him around the homestead, to a great bonfire which had been built in a clearing a short way back. Thomas stopped, staring up at the central feature. Alby's words about 'something special for newbie night' returning to him, along with a distinct nervousness that ate its way through his system. Newt's heavily veined, muscular arm swung around his shoulder, and Thomas jumped in surprise, not having heard the other boy approach him. The blond leaned in close to his side, and Thomas felt his concerns carried away by his rapidly increasing heart rate, as Newt's lips brushed against his ear.

"Welcome to the Glade, Greenie," the blond whispered, pausing when Thomas turned to meet his too close eyes for a moment. Dark brown orbs swirled with amusement, and Thomas could feel his entire face turning a scorching red at the intimate closeness. Despite the awkwardness, his heart felt light for the first time since he woke up as an amnesiac, and he allowed himself a small grin as Newt finally relented and moved back to a distance which permitted Thomas to breath fresh cool air once more, and finally think clearly again.

The next few hours passed in a blur of business, noise and color. Thomas saw countless faces, learnt countless names, and remembered barely even half of either. He met Frypan for the first time, one of the few boys he actually remembered, if only for a specific reason. Frypan was a large boy who had a full beard and thick hair all over his body, as if each follicle were trying to escape the confines of his food-smeared clothes. Thomas couldn't help but wonder about the sanitary ramifications of someone quite so hairy being the chief cook.

When darkness had finally claimed the compound, the other boys gathered their torches, lighting them all from a central fire pit that surrounded the area where they all sat. As soon as they were all lit, they took their places around the bonfire, and Newt threw Thomas a wink as he took up a spot beside where the noiret was sitting, before focusing his attention onto Alby, waiting for the signal.

"Light 'em up!" The dark skinned boy cried, and the boys all cheered as they threw their torches into the heart of the bonfire; the soft materials within instantly catching and roaring into flame. Thomas laughed along with Chuck, who sat beside him, surreptitiously watching from the corner of his eyes as Newt and the other torch throwers all cheered and celebrated.

Thomas watched as some boys began banging a large set of drums, a loud and surprisingly tuneful beat which a few other boys began to perform to. One was merely acrobatic, flipping and twisting through the air in a feat which Thomas had to admit to himself was impressive. He applauded with Chuck, the two of them sharing odd words here and there about the night unfolding before them.

Thomas looked around the make-shift campsite, almost choking when he saw Gally actually laughing and smiling with a group of boys on the opposite side of the bonfire. The dark haired, bad tempered boy was handing out jars of some sort of liquid, and Thomas got the immediate impression that it wasn't water. He turned away, barely noticing that the torch throwers were all toasting with their own jars as he turned back to Chuck, sharing a few more lighthearted comments about the evening, the food and the company that he was already certain he would not remember in the morning.

The night seemed never ending. New faces appeared before Thomas, boys coming over to greet him, to laugh at his memorable face-plant upon exiting the box. Thomas bore it all with a light grin and a similarly light heart, refusing to let the night be spoilt by stubbornness and stupidity. The one solid about his night, was that Chuck never once left his side.

Eventually however, Newt reappeared, squeezing himself between them with a jar in his hand and a lopsided grin which implied he was mightily impressed with himself for this feat. He gestured to the darkness beyond the bonfire, and Thomas immediately scrambled to his feet, something which Newt laughed at heartily before moving away from the heat, the bodies and the noise.

They walked in silence, Thomas keeping pace a step behind Newt. He noticed the boy walked with a faint limp, something he was surprised he hadn't noticed during the daylight. He told himself that it was only the limp which kept his eye glued to Newt's lower body as they moved. Newt grumbled quietly, clambering over a fallen tree before slumping against it. Thomas followed the other boys example, hopping over the tree and dropping to his ass slightly closer to the blond than originally intended. His ass regretted the action almost immediately, and he rubbed it discretely before picking some weeds from the cracks in the pavement.

The two were quiet a while longer, Thomas only just noticing that Newt was actually still eating when he snuck little glances at the other boy. He felt his brow furrow in confusion, the silence between them comfortable and easy. The strange stirring of butterflies in his stomach, which he told himself were merely excitement at finally receiving the answers Newt had promised him earlier in the day. He turned his attention to the tall walls, looming ominously ahead of them.

"Hell of a first day, Greenie," Newt finally said, and Thomas could feel the other boys eyes on him. He nodded, pleased of their distance from the bonfire, sure that his flushed cheeks would be hidden in the darkness. He played with a weed between his fingers, while Newt seemed to sense the sudden shift of atmosphere. He reached for his jar of liquid and offered it to Thomas, no doubt having seen that the noiret hadn't received one of his own. "Here, put some hair on ya chest." He said with a wink.

Thomas looked from the jar to Newt, who nodded encouragingly, before pushing it into Thomas's hands. The blond looked back towards the walls, though Thomas noted the small upward curve at the corner of his lips. He narrowed his eyes, and shifted himself slightly, raising the jar to his lips and taking a large swig. The second the liquid touched his tongue, he shot forward, spitting half of it out before quickly swallowing what remained.

"Urgh," he coughed, his eyes watering as he heard Newt begin laughing beside him. "Oh my _god_..." He tried to control his coughing fit, but the fiery liquid still scorched his throat, though it was fading to a pleasant tickle the more time passed. "What _is_ that?" He asked, relieved when Newt gained enough control over his shaking shoulders to take the jar of cursed liquid away. He smiled at the honest amusement in the other boys expression, a sense of calm like he hadn't felt throughout the entire crazy day settling over him; the understanding that this boy was truly, a friend.

"I don't even know," Newt admitted, admiring the jar while Thomas was struck by another wave of deep chested coughing. The blond glanced behind him, searching the crowd of boys still gathered around the bonfire. "It's Gally's recipe." Thomas rolled his eyes, hardly surprised that something which burned your throat raw came from the most hateful boy in the compound. "It's a trade secret..."

"Yeah well," Thomas glanced over at where Gally was just starting up a fighting ring, the other boys all attempting to push him out of a ring on the ground; all of them failing miserably. "He's still a... slinthead." He said quietly, looking away from the other boys and lowering his gaze once more to the weeds he had collected in his lap. He sensed Newt's eyes on him, but didn't want to meet them, already knowing what the other boy was thinking.

"He saved ya life today." Newt said just as quietly, and Thomas couldn't help but glance towards the blond. He was pleased the other boy didn't appear reproachful, merely thoughtful.

"Yeah well, if people had just been honest with me, maybe he wouldn't have had to." Thomas said petulantly, sticking his chin out slightly. Newt merely grinned, their eyes locking briefly, before he turned towards the huge wall.

"Trust me," the blond said, gesturing towards the closed door. "The maze is a buggin' dangerous place." He said slowly, rubbing at his leg lightly with his free hand. Thomas glanced down at the gesture, but didn't want to draw attention to his noticing, as Newt seemed to be lost in thought, the movement subconscious. He turned instead to stare at the high wall himself, thinking about the unbelievable day he had lived. He thought back to the evasiveness of the other boys, the redirected or outright avoided questions, and a sinking feeling bloomed in his stomach, as realization struck him hard.

"We're trapped here, aren't we?" He asked, his eyes locked on the suddenly even taller walls. His throat felt tight, his heart rate increasing as he considered this place as a prison. He wondered what he might have done in his previous life to warrant being sent to such a place. Glancing to the boy beside him, his brow furrowed further. What had any of them done to deserve it?

"For the moment." Newt said, snapping Thomas from his inner turmoil. The blond took a heavy sip from his jar, and Thomas wasn't even surprised to find himself impressed when the other boy didn't even blink at the stuff. He wondered how long Newt had been here, to be able to drink such strong stuff so easily. Dark eyes cut across to him suddenly, and Thomas felt warmth spread through him as the other boy swallowed and held up a finger. "But," he said, swinging himself around so he faced Thomas. Newt turned his head to look behind them, scanning the crowd a moment until he found what he was after. "Ya see those guys? There, by the fire?" He asked, pointing to a group of boys over the other side of the bonfire.

Thomas followed the blond's finger, and his eyes landed upon a group of tall, muscular boys. Some were standing, enjoying the night's festivities, while others were quietly talking among themselves. One boy however, didn't appear to be in the spirit of the event. With a start, Thomas realized it was the boy who had run past him upon returning from the maze. The Asian boy with thick, muscular arms, his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows. He had dark shaggy hair, though it wasn't long enough to pass his ears.

"Those, are the bloody runners." Newt said, and Thomas jumped when his voice came from much closer than he had expected it to. He glanced to the side, and saw that the blond was sitting a hand width closer, his dark eyes reflecting the bonfire light as they flickered from Thomas to the Asian boy. "That one in the middle, that's Minho." With this said, Newt returned his gaze to Thomas and the noiret allowed himself to enjoy the attention. "He's the keeper of the runners." He added, as if Thomas should understand that this was an important fact. Thomas wanted to ask what a keeper was, but he didn't want Newt to stop talking, finally explaining things to him; so he bit his lip, and told himself he would ask later.

"Now," Newt continued, after pausing to take another short sip of drink. "Every buggin' mornin', when those doors open; they run the buggin' maze. Mappin' it." Thomas snapped his eyes to Newt, the importance of what he was hearing not lost on him. He had the brief, irrational thought that he didn't want Newt to continue, to say anything that Alby or Gally, or any of the other boys he had met tonight, would give him grief for later. But he squashed the thought, too enraptured by the information that Newt freely offered him. "Memorizin' it. Tryin'ta find a way out." Thomas felt hope bloom in his heart, the thought that people were out there looking inspiring him to believe he might not even be stuck in this place too long after all.

"How long have they been looking?" He asked, glancing at the runners for a final time, before turning to sit straight again. Newt shifted, clearly debating whether to answer for a moment, before he seemed to visibly deflate. He turned, leaning on his elbow as he watched Thomas.

"Three years." The blond admitted. Thomas felt the hope he'd been nurturing in his chest wither, his dreams of escaping scattering like dust in the wind.

"And they haven't found anything?" Thomas finally asked, after a pregnant pause. He glanced towards the blond, as the other boy shifted, leaning closer with an amused expression curling his lips into a large grin. Thomas felt the warmth swirl again through his stomach, a thousand butterfly wings trying to escape.

"It's a lot buggin' easier said than done." Newt said, leaning on his elbow and shifting so he could see the doors again. He held up his finger suddenly, leaning close to Thomas as he stared at the ground, his expression suddenly serious. "Listen," he whispered.

Thomas frowned, scratching his knee as he did as he was told. Almost immediately, he sat straighter, uncertain how he could have missed the grinding sounds of rock against rock; so similar to the very sound he had heard right in front of him earlier in the evening. For a moment neither spoke, listening to the grinding and splintering sound of rock moving. Just as Thomas was about to ask, Newt spoke again. "Hear that?" He asked, though he clearly knew the answer. "That's the maze. Changing." He said, lowering his finger and turning to look at the doors in the wall again. "Changes every buggin' night."

Thomas continued to listen to the sounds of the changing maze, confused and awed by the very possibility of what Newt said being true, although the sounds alone made it rather clear it was. "How is that even possible?" He whispered, unaware he had even spoken aloud until he noticed Newt grinning sideways at him.

Newt spread his arms, a light shrug of indifference which was matched by the amusement in his dark eyes. "Ya can ask the people who put us in here, if you ever meet the bloody shanks." He slung his arm over the back of the tree, leaning against it more heavily as his expression turned serious once more. "Listen, the truth is; the runners, are the only ones really know whats buggin' out there. They're the strongest and fastest of us all and its a bloody good thing too; 'cuz if they don't make it back before those bloody doors close, then they're stuck out there for the buggin' night."

Thomas felt trepidation curl in his gut, his eyes reluctantly raising to meet Newt's solid gaze. He'd wanted so badly to be given answers, and the truth was that nobody but the runners could really give them to him. He felt the rush of warmth that often came with Newt's attention, and a swell of appreciation surged in him for the boy who was at least taking the time to explain this much to him at last.

"No-one's ever survived a night in the buggin' maze." Newt said quietly, snapping Thomas from his internal musings, as the blond's dark eyes shifted away from him. Thomas felt the bottom of his stomach disappear, the full impact of those words settling on his shoulders like a heavy blanket. He watched as Newt took a longer drink from his jar, his throat tight and his head hurting from the implications.

"What happens to them?" He asked, though he immediately wished he hadn't. Newt had seemed so lost in his own thoughts, he was annoyed to be asking yet more questions when the blond was already breaking the rules to help him understand. The other boy gave no response for a moment, staring into space as if he were a million miles away, perhaps even lost in the maze himself.

"Well, we call 'em Grievers." Newt finally said, staring blankly at the far doors opposite them. He was quiet a moment longer, before his eyebrows rose on his forehead, as if he had suddenly woken from a vivid dream. "Course, no-one's ever... _seen,_ one and buggin' lived to tell about it." He said, glancing over at Thomas apologetically, as if embarrassed by his brief zoning out. "But they're out there."

Thomas frowned, the conversation offering more questions than answers, but he forced himself to bite his tongue. He didn't want Newt to get in any more trouble than he already might. He jumped when the blond landed a hand on his shoulder, surprised to find the other boy gesturing him to stand. "Come on, Greenie, enough questions for one bloody night. I'll fill ya in on some other stuff another buggin' time. Now, it's late; and you must be bloody knackered. You probably haven't even picked a buggin' bunk space."

Thomas shook his head, following Newt's lead and getting to his feet. He wobbled slightly, frowning at the strange light-headed feeling. Newt laughed, apparently not in the least off balance like Thomas seemed to be, but finding it amusing that the noiret was affected so strongly by Gally's 'trade secret recipe'. "Come on, Greenie," Newt said, leading the way back to the homestead. "Most people just sleep outside, but ya the guest of honor for tonight so, make the most of the buggin' bunk for the night."

The blond led him around to the front of the building, and Thomas couldn't help but feel a nervous energy building in his gut. Whether from the companionship of sitting talking for so long, or whether just from the insanity that was this strange, confusing place; he couldn't tell, and maybe didn't even want to. "So, where are we going?" He asked, his eyes drawn once more to Newt's slight limp. His brow furrowed, his mind racing through scenarios that could have led to such an injury. For some reason, he didn't want to ask about the blond's leg; didn't want to risk offending what he was fast coming to realize, was his closest acquaintance. "If you're hoping for a goodnight kiss, you can forget it." He said in an attempt at a joke. Newt glanced at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "I mean, not that I expect you are, uh, hoping for... one," he babbled, his tongue running away from him again as he panicked.

Newt turned forward again, but Thomas caught the curl of his lips, a small grin at his foolish behavior. He grumbled under his breath, before biting his lip so he couldn't embarrass himself any further. After several minutes of walking in silence, the two came to a side entrance to the homestead. "Here ya go," Newt said, opening the door to reveal a room filled with sleeping bags already laid out ready for people to use. Thomas frowned, thinking it too hot to want to sleep inside. Newt waved a hand in front of his face, a wide smile splitting his face as he tried to hold back laughter. "Earth to Greenie, come in Greenie. Where'd you buggin' go?" The blond laughed.

Something about the joke frustrated Thomas though, and he found himself frowning for a second, before he looked up at the other boy. "Thomas," he said quietly. Newt stopped laughing, his expression calming as his dark eyes latched on to Thomas. "My name is Thomas." He said, lowering his gaze as his confidence suddenly fled him.

For a moment there was only the distant sound of the bonfire party, the faint trace of a breeze as Thomas stared at a patch of dirt on the knee of his trousers. "Well ok then," Newt said, offering his hand as he had earlier in the day. "Pleased'ta meet ya, Tommy." Thomas felt warmth spread through his chest and cheeks, a grin splitting his face as he looked up at Newt and shook his hand for the second time since meeting him. "Now, go get some bloody shut eye. Trust me when I say ya're gonna buggin' need it." The blond said, releasing his hand.

Thomas huffed a laugh, both nervous and excited for the following morning if it meant he might get another chance to speak with the blond. He decided not to mention his aversion to sleeping inside, choosing instead to go along with the Glader's rules for once. He stepped through the door, and had just heard it shut behind him when Newt's voice drifted through it. "Oh, and if I had buggin' wanted a goodnight kiss, Tommy," he said, his voice full of laughter. "I'd have bloody taken it." Thomas was pleased he was hidden from the blond's view, his cheeks no doubt flaming red as he felt them burn with heat. He laughed, the first full and loud laugh he had allowed himself since arriving in this hell-like place. He heard Newt's retreating steps, and shook his head, deciding that any place was survivable, with a friend like Newt in your life.

* * *

 **A/N:~ WoW!**

 **I am so, touched - and awed, by everyone who has been so kind to me. I love that you've all given me such encouragement! And as a result, I've punched out chapter 2! I hope you all enjoy it, please let me know what you think - I'm hoping the two stories are mixing nicely :) but you'll have to tell me because I'm obviously not an expert...**

 **Thankyou all so SO much for reading; please review and let me know what you think.**

 **x My love to you all x**


	3. The Tour

Although Newt had told Thomas he would need all the sleep he could get, the noiret found it nigh impossible to actually drift off. He had sat in the homestead for a time, before grabbing one of the laid out sleeping bags, quickly stuffing it under his arm and heading back out into the night. A few moments later, he was laying in the soft sleeping bag on a patch of grass near the gardens, something he hadn't even noticed before on his initial glance around the compound.

For what felt like the millionth time since his arrival, he wondered just _where_ they were, the climate seeming too artificially consistent to allow for logical analysis. Even if he could have narrowed down a list of candidates though, his mind was having a hard time grasping the names of places, or remembering countries or rulers. He could occasionally picture an odd landmark, but he couldn't imagine what it actually was or its significance to any location; and even if he could, it would hardly help when they had no means of seeing past the tall walls surrounding them. Eventually he sighed, giving up for the night. At least wherever they were, it was warm.

He lay on his back, his arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the stars and listened to the lingering sounds of the bonfire party. He supposed it was rude of the guest of honor to have left his own party before the end, but Newt had seemed to understand his reluctance to return after their discussion. Sleep felt miles away, his mind whirling with the information that Newt had allowed him. It had been an endless, and strange, day. He wondered again what so many, so young people could have possibly done to warrant ending up in such a hopeless and despairing place.

Yet, the boys all worked hard here. They cared for the animals, the land, what little workable soil there was between the large concrete slabs. It was all so... weird. He could remember the little things about life; clothing, speech, how to eat and walk. Yet any details were gone, obscured as if behind a half metre of muddy water. More than anything perhaps, he felt _sad._

"Well, this sure ain't where I buggin' left you." Came an amused jibe _._ Thomas grinned cheekily, tilting his head back to look upside-down at the blond with his arms folded over his chest. "Pretty sure I said you needed to goto bloody sleep," Newt added, walking around Thomas in order to flop down beside him.

"Couldn't sleep." Thomas said, turning his head from Newt's amused glare in order to look back at the stars. "Can't shut off," he joked, tapping the side of his head. The two of them remained silent for a time, each lost to their own thoughts as they observed the lightly twinkling stars above them. Thomas stole glances at the other boy every so often, his seeming to drift without his awareness until he was examining some other small detail about the blond. How his hands had graceful, musical fingers. How long his legs were, which brought to mind the other boys limp, and questions of how he might have gotten it.

Thomas was suddenly struck with the realization that he knew nothing about himself. He almost gasped, at the force with which he was struck by panic. The thought that if he didn't even know what he himself looked like, then he was somehow robbed of something even deeper than his past. "I can hear ya bloody head workin' from here," Newt said quietly, and Thomas looked over to find the boy laying on his side, his head propped by his elbow as he watched Thomas's internal struggle. "What's buggin' ya?"

"Newt," he began, but though he opened his mouth, he could get no other words out. He hesitated a moment longer, frustration eating away at he shook his head, and tried to put into words the emptiness that he felt about himself. "What- How- ...what do I..." He gave up, biting his lip as the words continued to stick in his throat like glue. He scrubbed his eyes quickly, hating himself for the burning sensation that still stung them even after he'd finished and lowered his arm again.

Newt's eyes scanned over him, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he examined Thomas up and down. "I'd say ya're around sixteen," he said, and Thomas felt all his breath rush from him as the words sank in. Sixteen years of his life, stolen by people he couldn't remember for reasons he didn't even know if he originally knew. His head hurt at the thought, and he rapidly pushed it away, looking at Newt as the boy shifted and continued. "Brown eyes, light, like hazelnuts." Thomas felt his cheeks burn with heat again, and hoped the other boy wasn't looking quite close enough to notice. "Ya got black hair, and when standing I'd say ya're about one metre seventy five, in case ya're wonderin'."

Thomas sucked in a deep breath, the information about himself igniting curiosity, a swell of happiness; and an overwhelming sadness, all at once. He couldn't pick any one emotion, his heart racing as his breathing began to come faster. "Ugly as bloody fried liver on a stick." Thomas barked a surprised laugh, his eyes turning back to Newt as his eyes widened. The huge grin on the blond's face spoke of his intentions, and Thomas felt a little better for the blond's attempt to ease his surge of panic. "Ok, ok, so maybe there'd be some call ya hot; but hey, all opinion. All that matters is your own bloody opinion on ya'self."

Thomas couldn't stop the words leaving his mouth if he tried. "Which do you think?" He asked, immediately filled with horror from his outburst. Newt laughed, the sound loud and honest, as he rolled closer beside him, his eyes sparkling as his mouth hovered only a short distance away. Thomas heard his heart speed up against his ribs, and hopelessly hoped the other boy didn't notice his flaming face from such proximity.

"Ask me again when ya done as ya buggin' told and been to bloody sleep." Newt said quietly, hovering a moment longer before he pushed to his feet. "Hey Chuckie, keep an eye on the Greenie for the night, bloody knock him out if ya have to, bloody make him sleep." Newt winked before walking away, as Chuck hopped down beside Thomas on the ground, his own sleeping bag already wrapped around him. Thomas tilted upwards slightly, watching Newt depart and catching the blond glance back before turning the corner around the homestead.

He grinned to himself, a small and hidden thing which he was certain Chuck couldn't possibly see, as he returned to lying on his back. The special warmth again bubbled in his chest, spreading throughout his body and making it even more difficult to believe he would ever get to sleep. He couldn't help but offer small thanks that whoever the _shanks_ who had stuffed them all here were, they had thought to include someone so calm and _calming,_ as Newt. He immediately felt flooded with guilt for the thought, his emotions battling and churning within him as he contemplated that he took pleasure from anyone being stuck in this awful and confusing place.

"Well Greenie, you survived first day!" Chuck said, interrupting Thomas's now chaotic thoughts. Thomas felt a rush of gratitude towards the chubby boy, and promised himself he would try to be nicer to the boy in the future.

"Barely," he said, trying hard not to let his thoughts drift back towards Newt. "I think Gally would've happily kicked my ass today if he got the chance, Alby too probably." He frowned, scolding himself when he wanted to add that it was only due to Newt's interventions both times that he had gotten away with only a tongue lashing at most.

"Well, Gally's kind of a... shank..." Chuck said, seeming uncomfortable with the word. The boy immediately shook off his discomfort and leaned on an elbow, looking over at Thomas with kindness and excitement. "You'll learn a lot in the next couple days, start getting used to things. Good that?"

"Um," Thomas said uncertainly, biting his tongue briefly before continuing. "Yeah... good that, I guess..." He added slowly. He was silent for a moment, before he couldn't stand not knowing any longer. "Where'd all these weird words and phrases come from, anyway?" He couldn't shake the feeling that they had taken some strange other language, and melded it with his own.

Chuck flopped back to the ground with a heavy flump, "I don't know. I've only been here a month, remember?" Thomas frowned at the petulant tone, wondering if the boy knew more than he was willing to tell. The kid was quirky, funny, and he seemed pretty innocent, but Thomas knew already he was capable of concealing things if he felt like it. Although language creation seemed a stupid thing to lie over. Ultimately Thomas decided he was just as mysterious as everyone and everything else in the Glade.

The minutes stretched past, and Thomas slowly felt the long and unusual day finally catch up to him, the leaded edge of sleep just brushing across his mind. But, like a fist had suddenly shoved through his head and grabbed his mind in a tight grip, a thought popped in which he couldn't shake. He hadn't expected, and wasn't entirely sure where it had come from. Suddenly, the Glade; the walls, the maze, even the boys all seemed familiar. Comfortable.

A warmth of calmness spread through his chest, for the first time from something other than a certain blond's reassurances. For the first time since he had arrived, he didn't feel like the Glade was the worst place in the universe that he could be, like it wasn't a prison; only a puzzle. He stilled, felt his eyes widen and his breathing stutter to a halt. He desperate tried to pinpoint what had changed, what could have happened to instill such a certainty into his heart. Ironically, the thought that things might be ok; made him feel slightly uneasy.

Although he didn't quite understand how, he knew what he needed to do. He didn't get it. Didn't understand it any further than the certainty of knowing it was _right._ The feeling, the _epiphany,_ was a strange one; both foreign and familiar at the same time. But still, it just felt right.

"I want to be one of those guys that goes out there," he said aloud, not even aware if Chuck was awake or if he was just talking to himself. "Inside the Maze."

"Huh?" Chuck replied, and Thomas could hear the tinge of annoyance in the other boys voice.

"Runner," Thomas said, wishing he could understand where the clear certainty of his words was coming from. "Whatever they're doing out there, I want in."

Chuck was silent for a long moment before he finally replied. "You don't even know what you're talking about," he grumbled, rolling over in his sleeping bag. "Do what Newt said, go to sleep, Greenie."

Thomas felt a surge of confidence, boosted by a small swell of irritation that the chubby boy would shoot him down so quickly, even if it was true that he really _didn't_ know what he was talking about. "I want to be a runner."

Chuck turned and got back up on his elbow, his face twisted with frustration for the first time Thomas could remember. "You can forget that little thought right now." He said, far more forcefully than Thomas would have thought possible for the younger boy. He wondered at the boy's reaction, his brow furrowing as he pressed on.

"Don't try to-"

"Thomas. Newbie. My new friend. _Forget it_." Chuck said, jabbing a pudgy finger roughly into Thomas's sleeping bag.

"I'll tell Alby tomorrow." Thomas said stubbornly, thinking he may well have gone insane; seeing as he was so unreasonably determined to be a runner, even though he really did have _no_ idea what that meant.

Chuck glared at him for a moment longer, before his shoulders drooped, rolling onto his back as he huffed a dry chuckle. "You're a piece of klunk. Go to sleep."

But Thomas couldn't quit, his mind churning, his head pounding and his heart racing; his whole body telling him there was something so obvious that he was missing in this puzzle. "Something out there... it feels, familiar."

"Go... to... _sleep._ "

Then it hit Thomas. His breath whooshed from his lungs, his heart seemed to pause mid-beat and the fire in his veins seemed to turn to ice. A few of the pieces finally fell into place, and though he couldn't tell what the ultimate picture was yet, it gave him a clear enough understanding of what he was feeling. His next words almost seemed to be coming from somewhere else, he had no control over them. "Chuck, I... I think I've _been_ here before."

He heard the boy sit up, heard the sharp intake of a breath. But Thomas knew there was nothing further to be said. He rolled over, turning his back to the other boy and refusing to say another word. He didn't dare risk the new sense of being encouraged, or risk eradicating the reassuring calm that filled his heart. Sleep came much easier than he expected after that, and as he finally drifted into darkness, he had the entirely inappropriate and out of place thought; that Newt had very pretty eyes.

He felt like he had only closed his eyes for half a minute, before someone was shaking him awake. Cold fear washed over him, visions of being shoved back into the box while he slept only to wake up in the dark again, alone and confused once more. His eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at him, everything around him still shadowed by the darkness of early morning. He opened his mouth to speak, but a warm hand pressed gently over it, keeping it shut. He expected to feel panicked, and was surprised he didn't; until he saw who it was.

"Shh, Tommy." Newt said quietly, a slow lopsided smile blooming across his face. "Don't wanna be wakin' Chuckie now, do we?" Though Thomas was startled, any traces of alarm melted away completely. He couldn't help feeling curious, wondering what the guy who seemed to be second in command would want with him. He doubted he had anything more to tell him that he couldn't have said the night before. Thomas nodded, his hand coming to gently remove Newt's from his mouth, while trying to say that he understood with his eyes at the same time. Newt grinned, a flash of teeth showing briefly before he leaned back on his heels.

"Come on, Greenie," the tall boy whispered, as he stood. He reached down and offered his hand, which Thomas took willingly, allowing the other boy to help him to his feet. The blond was so strong, it felt like he could have easily ripped Thomas's arm off if he had wanted to, though he clearly didn't as he was gentle as he pulled the noiret up beside him. Thomas wasn't about to admit that he found the thought thrilling. "Supposed to show ya somethin' before the wake up." Newt explained softly, his head tilting in a way which told Thomas to follow the blond, which he did without thought when the other boy turned and began to walk away.

"Ok." Thomas immediately replied, any lingering haze of sleep vanishing as he leaned down and slipped into his shoes. "Where are we going?" He whispered as he straightened, quickly catching up to Newt.

"Just follow me, Greenie, and keep up." Thomas frowned, irritated for no good reason he could settle on that he was back to being called 'Greenie'. He grumbled internally, thinking of ways he might be able to get the blond to return to calling him 'Tommy,' much preferring the sound of his first nickname from the other boy. Newt led the way both quickly and carefully, avoiding the other boys sleeping outside with a practiced ease which Thomas was yet to acquire; as he almost tripped several times. He stepped on someone's hand, earning a sharp cry of pain, then a punch in the calf in return.

"Sorry," he whispered, ignoring a dirty look from Newt. He hoped the heat in his cheeks didn't show.

Once they left the lawn area and stepped back onto the hard grey stone of the courtyard floor, Newt broke into a run, heading for the western wall. Thomas hesitated at first, wondering why he might need to run when there was nowhere he could really go, but he quickly snapped himself out of it and followed after the tall boy. He didn't stop, until Newt did, beside the massive wall towering above them like a skyscraper; an image which floated to the top of his murky puddle of a memory for a moment, before sinking deep once more.

"What are those?" He whispered, pointing to some small red lights he noticed scattered about the walls face, moving, stopping, turning off and on.

Newt stood slightly ahead of him, in front of a thick curtain of ivy on the wall. The blond glanced back at him, raising a brow as if in question. "What did I buggin' say last night, Greenie?" He sighed wearily, though his lips curled slightly, alleviating the scolding. "When you bloody need to know, ya'll know."

"Well, its kinda stupid to send me someplace nothing makes sense and then not answer any of my questions," Thomas paused, surprised at himself. " _Shank,_ " he added with a grin, throwing all the sarcasm he could into the single syllable.

Newt barked a loud laugh, slamming his hand over his mouth quickly and glancing around the Glade as he quickly got himself under control again. He leveled a playful glare at Thomas, his eyes full of mirth and mischief, before he faced the curtain again. "I like you, Greenie. Now buggin' shut it and let me show ya somethin'." Thomas felt the confusing glitch of emotions in his chest. He felt pleased that he was able to have the sense of camaraderie he did with the blond, that the other boy was proving to be someone he couldn't imagine life in the Glade without. At the same time, he felt the grinding screech of frustration, at being called 'Greenie,' as opposed to 'Tommy'.

Newt drew his attention from his internal dilemma's, stepping forward to dig his hands deep into the ivy, dragging several of the thick vines away from the wall. Beneath the curtain, further hidden by a thick layer of dust, was what could only be described; as a window. Thomas shivered, the glass appearing as if it had been painted black in the darkness.

"What're we looking for, exactly?" Thomas asked, his eyes flicking between Newt's expectant expression, and the dark depths of the blackened window.

"Hold ya buggin' undies," Newt laughed quietly, glancing down to flick at Thomas's forehead lightly. "One'll be along soon enough."

Thomas pouted and rubbed at the injured spot, pretending not to notice Newt's smirk as the other boy stood stock still and stared through the window. Thomas dropped his hand with a faint sigh, and watched also. A minute passed, then two. Several more. Thomas began to fidget, he couldn't understand how the blond was able to stand so impeccably still for so long, so utterly patient as he stared into nothing but darkness.

"Holy shuck, ya're really bad at bloody patience ain't ya, Tommy?" Thomas couldn't understand why his heart seemed to float at the return of his nickname, or why it seemed to want to climb out of his throat, or the way his stomach seemed to suddenly go hollow.

"I," he began, but had to clear his throat instead, wildly hoping that his face wasn't turning red again. He felt his hands turn hot and clammy, and he settled them on his hip as nonchalantly as possible. "I just, you know... am a... physical... person..." He stuttered, immediately wincing at the pathetic explanation. Newt rolled his head towards him, an enormous grin on his face and a glint in his eye which said both that he couldn't believe Thomas had actually just said what he did; and that he thought it was hilarious.

"Ya don't buggin' think before ya speak either, do ya?" The blond laughed, stifling the sound as best he could with his free hand. Thomas flushed, but he couldn't find it in himself to be offended by the other boys teasing.

"No, I really don't seem to, do I?" He admitted with a chuckle of his own. He looked at Newt, who shook his head in amusement and turned back to the window, his smile slowly fading as he noticed the change beyond. Thomas stepped closer to the other boy, the backs of their hands brushing, before he, at last, grew perfectly still.

Glimmers of an eerie light shone through the thick window, casting a wavering spectrum of colours across their skin. Thomas raised a hand, examining the display closer to his face, before glancing up at Newt, who still faced the window, staring almost blankly as if lost in thought. The colours blended across his face, making it appear as if he were stood next to a lit swimming pool. Thomas turned back to the window, squinting as he tried to make out what was ahead of them. A thick lump began to form in his throat.

"Out there's the Maze," Newt whispered, eyes wide as if in a trance. "Everythin' we do; our whole _life,_ Greenie, revolves around the Maze. Every lovin' second of every lovin' day, we spend in honor of the Maze, tryin' to solve somethin' that's never shown us it has a bloody solution, ya know? And we wanted to show ya, why it's not to be messed with. Show ya why them buggin' walls close every night. Show ya why you should never, _never_ find ya shank butt out there." Newt stepped back, still holding the vines. He lowered his haunted gaze to Thomas, and gestured for him to step closer. Thomas met his gaze for a second, trying to understand the secrets hidden in the other boys dark eyes, until the other boy looked away and he was forced to step closer to the window.

Even with his nose pressed against the thick glass, it took a moment for him to see what Newt wanted him to see, to look past the grime and dust to the moving object beyond. When he did, his breath was stolen from his throat, as if he'd been punched in the gut. He struggled to catch another.

A large, bulbous that looked roughly the size of a cow, but that had no distinct shape or features; twisted and seethed across the ground in the corridor outside. It climbed the opposite wall, and then leaped at the thick glass with a loud thump. Thomas jerked away from the window, a small shriek escaping him before he could catch himself, but the thing bounced backwards, leaving the glass undamaged.

The creature appeared to be a horrific mix of animal and machine, intelligent enough to know it was being observed. It seemed to know what lay within the Glade, wanted to break through and feast on the human flesh hidden inside. Thomas felt an icy terror blossom in his chest, spreading like a tumor and making it even harder for him to catch his breath.

"What is that thing?" He asked, jerking his chin toward the monstrosity. He rubbed at his stomach, as something shivered in his gut. He wondered if he would ever be able to eat again.

"That my new friend, Tommy, is a Griever." Newt answered, staring at the thing with a detached kind of, morbid fascination. "Nasty bugger, eh? Just be glad the buggin' Griever's only come out at night. Be thankful for these walls."

Thomas swallowed, wondering if he could ever go out there. His desire to become a runner took a major blow, but despite this; he knew with a conviction that almost scared him worse than the Griever's monstrous appearance, he _had_ to do it. Being a runner was what he was _destined_ to do in this place. The certainty was an odd thing to feel, especially considering what he had just seen.

Newt watched the window absently, almost seeming to have forgotten about Thomas, until he started talking again. "Now you know what bloody lurks in the Maze, my friend. Now you know this isn't joke time. You've been sent to the Glade, Greenie," Thomas's heart sank for reasons he couldn't even begin to fathom, the reappearance of 'Greenie,' striking him a harder blow every time Newt reverted back to the slang. "We'll be expectin' ya to survive. To help us do what we've been sent here to do."

"And what's that?" Thomas asked slowly, feeling even more on edge by the emotionless way Newt was talking than from seeing the Griever. He wasn't at all surprised to realize he was terrified of the answer.

Newt turned to look him dead in the eye. The dawn had crept up on them, and Thomas could see every detail of Newt's face. His tightly pressed together lips, the specks of gold hidden in his dark eyes. The occasional darker, slightly redder hair hidden throughout his blond hair. Thomas was pleased nobody could hear his thoughts, when they startled him with the very clear thought that the other boy looked beautiful. Even with the way his skin seemed pulled taught in an effort to control himself, and the way his brow creased. "To find our way out Greenie," Newt said slowly, his eyes full of conviction and even a touch of desperation. "Solve the buggin' Maze, and find our way home."

For a moment, neither said anything further. Thomas met Newt's fierce gaze, until something deep within his eyes seemed to shift, some awareness creeping into them as they roamed over Thomas curiously. Thomas lowered his own eyes to the floor, wondering if now were the time to mention his desires. Something told him it was too soon, that he would only be laughed at and mocked if he tried to mention his wish to be a runner already. He decided to wait, let the dust settle and try in a couple days time.

"C'mon, Tommy," Newt said quietly, bumping his shoulder as he strode past. He paused and looked back over his shoulder, a small grin forming as he made sure Thomas followed him. "Alby will be doin' ya bloody tour soon, and he'll be a total shuck-face if I keep ya too long. But, there's somethin' else I wanna show ya quick like, get me?"

Thomas grinned widely, ducking his head slightly as he followed the blond. "I get ya," he laughed. He followed the blond in silence, lost in his thoughts about becoming a runner, about Griever's and Maze's and about what anyone could possibly achieve from putting a bunch of teenage boys in such an environment; with no discernible goal, reason or end in sight. The whole thing made his head hurt.

To distract himself he watched the surroundings as he walked through the Glade. The sky as it slowly brightened, the walls as their shadow's retreated for another day. The way Newt's slight limp seemed more pronounced today, and made his ass tilt in a curiously fascinating repetitive motion. It had been some minutes before he realized he was walking along in a daze, staring at the ass of the boy ahead of him. He quickly glanced around, glad to find that nobody was around to notice his distraction. He cleared his throat, and scratched at the back of his neck guiltily, firmly re-focusing his eyes on the back of Newt's head.

"Here," Newt said softly, coming to a half beside another of the four walls. Located on the opposite side of the doors, which would soon be opening, the wall was already bathed in early morning sunlight; and Thomas felt something heavy settle in his hollow stomach when his eyes landed on the grey surface. Countless names, carved into the wall, some deeper than others. Some were horizontal, some were vertical. Some were all lower case, some were all capitals. Some were tiny, some were so big they were almost comical. Thomas stepped closer, a hand raising; but not quite daring to actually brush across the stone. "Every buggin' boy who ever came here... so we never forget. So there's always somethin' of them left."

Newt's ominous words poisoned the wonder and awe Thomas felt of the wall, his eyes picking out details for the first time. For all the countless names carved into the rock face, a disconcertingly high amount of them were harshly crossed out. Thomas finally allowed his hand to touch the wall, dragging it softly over one of the crossed out names. It read, 'george,' all in lower case, and was smaller by far than Alby's or Minho's names. He saw Newt's, written almost right before his eyes, and he was tempted to run his hand over it too, but forced his hand away from the wall instead. "What happened to them..?" He asked quietly, gesturing to the crossed out names.

Newt was silent for a long time, seeming to debate the question thoroughly before he shifted his gaze and focused on Thomas's eyes with his own haunted, dark brown eyes. "We weren't always so well organized. Things happened. Lesson's were learned." Newt said slowly, taking Thomas's hand and folding it around a small knife. Thomas bit his lip, the other boys pain clear in his stiff body language. Thomas acted before he could even think.

He slapped his free hand onto Newt's shoulder, startling the taller boy a moment, before his eyes softened, his hand coming to grip Thomas's a moment, before releasing it again. Thomas removed his hand, comfort both given and received from the gesture. He couldn't help but notice his hand still felt warm even after he removed it from the other boys shoulder. He nodded his head silently, before stepping forward and raising the small knife to the hard surface. With his free hand, he softly traced Newt's name, before shifting and beginning his own, only a short ways above it. He told himself it was because Newt was his first friend, and not because he some part of him wanted to always be close to him. He couldn't tell if he believed himself or not.

As he set about the arduous task of carving his name into the hard rock, he thought about all the boys who had done so before him. There was no way to know those that were lost. For all the helpful things this place did seem to be provided with, there were no cameras, and it seemed no mirrors, showers, or such other luxuries. Thomas wondered briefly if half the other boys even knew what they looked like. He wondered if Newt did. He chanced a glance, finding the blond leaning his shoulder against the wall, with his arms and legs both crossed. Watching Thomas's name slowly appear on the wall as so many other's had before him, almost as if he were only just truly, finally arriving in the Glade with this action.

Thomas refocused on his carving, sweat breaking out on his brow as he dragged the knife across the wall in a repetitive motion, pressing it deeper so his mark would remain, even after he may be long gone. He thought about the Grievers, wondered how many of the boys had succumbed to the monstrosities, or how many had been stung; only to return to the homestead for the magical 'serum,' that Chuck had mentioned.

By the time he had finished, the Maze doors had opened. Thomas had paused briefly to watch the runners leave, none of them saying a word before they bolted into the dark corridors outside before the doors had even stopped moving, before he continued in the peaceful silence he and Newt had established while he worked. When he finally stepped back, his name was clearly written on the wall, a short distance below Alby's and a short way above Newt's. He felt a swell of pride, but quickly squashed it down, feeling ridiculous when he wasn't the only person to have done this.

"Nice job, Greenie." Newt commented, lightly clapping a hand on his shoulder. Thomas glanced back, and offered the boy his knife back, handle first. Newt grinned, taking the blade and slotting it into a harness across his chest. "Come on, lets get you back before Alby has a buggin' heart attack." Thomas laughed, not sure why the motion felt so good or so natural, but deciding that for this one moment, he would let go of all the thinking; and just go with it.

The two boys walked back across the compound, Newt making quiet observations and pointing out a few places and faces as they passed them. "That's the Blood House, where the Slicers work. Keeper's a guy called Winston. Nasty bloody stuff. If ya're into blood, you can be a Slicer."

"Nope, not even a little." Thomas said quickly, and Newt laughed at his no doubt slightly horrified expression.

"Well, ya'll have to do a day with each keeper, get a feel for where ya talents lay." Newt said lightly. He pointed to two boys walking over to the homestead. "That's Clint and Jeff, the Med-jacks. They spend most of their time patching up the Slicers, though sometimes we have a few other ailments come up as well." Thomas laughed, his nervousness fading as he listened to Newt talk and explain how the Glade worked.

"We also have the Builders," he said, gesturing towards a group of boys who were eating their breakfast while noisily discussing some adjustments they wanted to make to the homestead. Newt leaned closer and whispered in a mock-conspiratorial tone, "great with their hands, but not a lot going on upstairs..." He tapped the side of his head, flashing Thomas a meaningful look, before he grinned and pulled away, seemingly pleased when Thomas laughed again.

Before long they had gone through most of the people in the Glade, each assigned to their own area to work throughout the day."So what about when it rains, you guys take a day off?" Thomas asked, genuinely curious.

"It never rains." Newt said quietly, looking around the Glade almost sadly. "Three years some of us have been here, and we've had nothing but what you see now. Perfect weather, every day."

Thomas remained silent, his brow furrowing as he tried to puzzle out the implications of such obviously unnatural weather. "Whoever the buggin' shanks put us here are, they give us just enough to survive; but nothin' beyond that. Mice, trapped in a bloody Maze." The bitterness in Newt's tone startled Thomas, and he felt the intense urge to give comfort to the other boy, though he had no idea how to go about it. He settled for a pat to the shoulder, which earned him a dry chuckle and a roll of the eyes. "Ya bloody awful at comfort, Tommy." Newt joked quietly, and Thomas couldn't help but grin at the teasing tone of the other boy, pleased he had at least achieved his goal of lifting the blond's mood. "But cheers, I appreciate it all the bloody same."

" _There_ you are, Greenie," the sharp voice cut across their banter, and Thomas jumped in surprise. Newt snickered at this, before raising his hand in greeting to Alby when the boy stomped over to them. "What took you so damn long, Newt?"

"I took him to the bloody name wall," Newt said, his exasperation clear as he folded his heavily muscled arms over his chest. "What, some buggin' emergency strike?"

Alby narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two with mounting frustration. "You show him anything else, shank?"

Newt shrugged, stepping forward to scuff his friend around the head playfully. "Pointed a few things out as we passed," he admitted, "don't worry though, ya buggin' tour can start now."

"Sounds like you probably did it all in one," Alby sighed, running a hand over his head and throwing the blond a light glare. "Anything I should know?" He asked after a moments pause.

Newt hesitated, glancing at Thomas before shrugging his shoulders. "His name's Thomas." Newt said, before moving to walk away. "And he doesn't bloody like bloo-" He was cut off by a booming, ringing alarm that sounded in all directions. Newt stopped dead, his eyes widening not from fear but surprise and confusion. Alby frowned heavily, staring across the compound to the box.

"What's going on..?" He asked cautiously. Although Newt seemed fairly willing to answer his questions, he knew Alby often reacted with less patience than the blond. He was relived neither boy seemed to think the world was about to end, but even so, Thomas couldn't fight the wave of panic which washed over him.

"That's weird," was all Alby said, his eyes darting around the compound to see the other boys all abandoning their jobs to congregate outside the homestead. A short, skinny kid drenched in mud shouted to Alby.

"What's up with that?" He demanded, for some reason looking towards Thomas, as if he might have something to do with it.

"I don't know," Alby murmured back, though the boy couldn't possibly have heard the reply from such a distance.

Thomas frowned, his chest tightening with concern. "Alby, what's going on?" He finally asked, unable to take it any longer.

"The box, shuck-face, the box!" Was all Alby said, before he set off for the middle of the Glade at a brisk pace which almost looked to Thomas like panic after all.

"What about it?" Thomas called, beginning to follow the boy at a much more cautious pace. He wanted to scream at the other boy for abandoning him, but something told him that the unusual event was a shock to everyone. He turned and spotted Newt limping cautiously alongside him. He trampled down his rising fear, telling himself that the blond wouldn't abandon him like Alby, that he would explain.

Newt glanced over at him, then nodded towards where the other boys were gathering around the box in the middle of the Glade. He was strangely calm in the middle of all the chaos, something Thomas was enormously thankful for, as it helped to soothe his own fraying nerves. "Means a bloody Newbie's comin' up in the box." He paused, watching Thomas as if this should shock the noiret. "Right now..."

"So?" Thomas looked more closely at Newt, and realized suddenly that what he had mistaken for calm, was actually disbelief; maybe even excitement.

" _So?_ " Newt replied, his jaw dropping slightly. "Greenie, we've never had two Newbies show up in the same _month,_ much less two days in a row. First we get _you_ , Mr curious, now a Newbie already?" Newt jostled his shoulder lightly, showing he meant the jibe lightheartedly. Still, as he ran off towards the homestead, Thomas couldn't help but notice his heart seemed to be sinking; as if something had changed the rules these boys had been living by. He shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself. He had the awful sense of foreboding that whatever had happened, was going to change things even worse than a few scrapped routines.

* * *

 **A/N:~ I'm loving writing this, and I'm loving that you all seem to enjoy it so much! Thankyou so much for reading; though I feel I must reiterate - I really don't do a lot here; I'm meshing book and film, so much of it is already there... But still, thankyou.**

 **Please let me know what you think so far; I'll try and update again soon :)**

 **x My love to you all x**


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